


Sing, My Angel of Music

by 0paque



Category: Monsta X, Phantom of the Opera (2004)
Genre: AU, Anachronisms, Angst, But just a little, Conflicts in Love, Danger, Guess who Changkyun is, Hyungwon and Minhyuk are dancers, Hyunwoo as Raoul, Kihyun as Christine, M/M, Managers Hoseok and Jooheon, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Singing, Unrequited Love, fluff???, lots of singing, masquerades, possibly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25991767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0paque/pseuds/0paque
Summary: Kihyun Yoo is the rising star of the Opera Populaire, an opera house housing a deformed musical genius (or psychopath) in its underground depths.  The man in the mask wants to bring Kihyun down into his lair, and finally present to him his Angel of Music.In other words, this is a Monsta X AU following the storyline of the 2004 movie adaptation of Andrew Lloyd Webber's "The Phantom of the Opera".
Relationships: Chae Hyungwon/Lee Hoseok | Wonho, Im Changkyun | I.M/Yoo Kihyun, Lee Jooheon/Lee Minhyuk, Son Hyunwoo | Shownu/Yoo Kihyun
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	1. Prologue | Think of Me

_The theatre was cold, empty, and detached, just the opposite as it had been left. The disaster was nearly fifty years ago, and it seems the place was left to rot the second that masked fiend whisked him away. The auction was my last chance to have anything that was once his. It had been so many years since he passed on, and so many years since I've had anything more to remind me of him. I miss him greatly._

_My legs don't have much feeling anymore. The nurse who pushes my wheelchair seems to be the only one to keep me company now, seeing that I'm one of the only ones left. It feels like the world came crashing down yesterday and centuries ago, all wrapped in a silken red bow._

The auctioneer stood at his podium. He was a round fellow, with red cheeks likely bitten from the wind and cold. His voice was taunting, just as any auctioneer, and loud. He opened is well-fed cheeks and let his announcer's voice echo across the dilapidated theatre. "Lot 665, ladies and gentlemen: a papier-mache musical box in the shape of a barrel organ. Attached, the figure of a monkey, draped in Persian robes, playing the cymbals."

_The auctioneer went on to detail where the item was found, and a showman displayed the object's function. The music sounded as it did so long ago._

_I locked eyes with a man then. He appeared to be my age, and strikingly familiar. I must've known the face at a time, a time before war and stress and work withered it away. He could've been mistaken as the corpse of an elf, with cheekbones so sharp and so high, and eyes twinkling in age-wrought wisdom. A name flitted about my memory, faint but certain, like a clear whisper._

_Minhyuk._

_I bid first, and he bid against me. I understand that little chimp meant a great deal to both of us, but I was the one who wed him, kept him safe. Of course, only a childhood friend could rival a lover. The box couldn't have possibly been worth thirty franks materially, but his memory was worth more than all the money in the world._

"Sold, for thirty franks, to Viscount Hyunwoo Son. Thank you sir."

_I held it in my hands, my old hands, as fragile as the item itself. A collector's piece, indeed._

_Every detail, exactly as he said._

_Will it still play when all of us are dead?_

Attention was directed towards a large object cloaked in stained white cloth, moth eaten in spots and torn in others. "Lot 666, then: A chandelier in pieces."

_The chandelier._

The auctioneer continued. "I suppose some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera; a mystery never fully explained."

_Him. The masked devil._

"We're told, distinguished guests, that this is the very chandelier which figures in the famous disaster."

_That night all those years ago. The fire. The weeping. The dungeon. The screams._

_The Phantom._

"Our workshops have repaired it and wired parts of it with the new electric light. Perhaps we can frighten away the ghost of so long ago with a little illumination," The auctioneer tilted his head, smiled a friendly smile - so broad to where the salt and pepper whiskers of his mustache tickled his cherry red cheeks - and looked to the workers of the auction. "Gentlemen?"

_And my memory, as faint as it was then, flooded with color, and I was taken back fifty years._

_Back to the day it all began._

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

It was Spring at the Opera Populaire. The birds flitting about the street sang songs with the performers, and the wind danced with the ballerinas. Horses and buggies trotted down the cobblestone roads, bumping and creaking and keeping the city ambience alive. Currently in production was the Populaire's spin on the classic _Hannibal_ , featuring all the stars of the opera house- the first on the list being Meekyong Choi. She was a talented woman for a time, that was for certain, but now her prima donna ways and questionable voice keep her performing and with a paycheck. 

Performing with Meekyong was the gifted ballet, taught by none other than Sir Hyungwon Chae. Hyungwon, for many years and still today, held the title of the country's greatest ballet dancer and teacher. The Populaire was grateful to have him amongst their staff. Many of his dancers were the most graceful and precise in the country, and perfectly suited for the Populaire's many shows and intricate dances. 

Hyungwon, still, the gifted dancer he was, took pride in his prodigies: Minhyuk Lee and Kihyun Yoo.

He'd known the two for many years, and sought to teach them both all he knew about the voice and the art of dance and music. His best students, he'd say, and he does say. He makes it well known to Meekyong that Kihyun and Minhyuk have the potential to run her out of the theatre.

Running the theatre was Manager Shidae, who worked diligently to keep the secrets of the theater secrets. Secrets with no name, secrets wearing a mask. Secrets with a paycheck, with a price.

Rehearsals for _Hannibal_ were interrupted when he came running in, two men wearing gemstone-colored suits in tow. "Ladies, gentlemen, please. If you do have a moment."

The conductor, an individual by the name of Jackson Wang, stood sternly at his position in the orchestra pit. He glared at Manager Shidae. "Sir, we are in the middle of a vital rehearsal for _Hannibal_."

Shidae ignored him. "I presume all of you have heard rumors of my inevitable retirement, and I have come here in person to inform you that those rumors are true-"

A few muffled cheers echoed across the stage, and a few people may have high-fived in the orchestra pit. Jackson did not hide his smug, pleased smile.

Shidae furrowed his brow, and continued. "-and that these gentlemen here are to take over my position."

The array of performers chattered amongst themselves. The men in suits looked uncomfortable.

"I leave you in good hands. These are the fine sirs Hoseok Lee and Jooheon Lee. They have encountered a fortune in their collection of junk-"

One of the two Lees interjected. He had dimples and his suit was colored emerald. "Scrap metal."

Shidae appeared disgusted. "-Scrap metal, then, and have decided to test the waters of show business. Hoseok, Jooheon, this is the cast and crew of the Opera Populaire."

Meekyong preened under an imaginary spotlight. "Hello, gentlemen~!"

"Greetings, madams, sirs," Said the other Lee. He wore the garnet-toned suit. "I am Hoseok, and this is my brother Jooheon. We are grateful to be here, and we bring our patron as well: Viscount Hyunwoo Son."

A third man stepped into view, broad and in a suit colored similarly to mocha. "It is my honor to be here and represent my family in the magnificent world of the theatre."

"Ah, yes, a wonderful new chapter of an old, old book. Now, should anyone need me, you can come find me in Australia." He turned on his heel and walked out. "Chow."

Hyungwon kept his analytical stance at stage left, hardly peering out from behind the curtain. A single letter fluttered down from the rafters. It appears Shidae's sudden retirement would prove itself troublesome.

"Please, continue your rehearsals!" Called Hyunwoo. "Don't let us prevent you from doing what needs to be done. Jooheon and Hoseok wish to see what all you can do! Sadly I must be taking my leave for other matters. I shall be here tonight to witness your triumph. My most sincere apologies, ladies and gentlemen."

Meekyong interpreted Hyunwoo's exit as her cue to continue her singing. She snapped her fingers a few times to regain Jackson's attention, and prepared herself with a self-indulgent smile. " _Think of Me,_ please."

Jackson rolled his eyes and hung his head a moment before starting the piece, and preparing mentally for the noise. Hyungwon, then, took it upon himself to take the letter from the rafters to the new managers. 

The music began. The instruments all blended beautifully. The strings, the crisp chords of the piano, but then there came Meekyong's voice.

Jooheon and Hoseok visibly grimaced. Oh, it was all wrong! Her voice didn't blend with the music at all! It was too forced from the throat, and it sounded as if she was pulling it out of her nose instead of breathing it from her lungs.

Hyungwon took long, elegant strides offstage towards the managers. The parchment envelop, bearing a bleeding red wax skull as a seal, was held tightly between his slender fingers. "Gentlemen," He began. "I do believe we have urgent matters to discuss." 

"Sir Chae!" Hoseok bowed a perfect 90 degrees before relaxing back to his usual posture. "I have heard very much praise of you and your students."

"Thank you, Manager Hoseok," Hyungwon smiled softly. He liked the twinkle in Hoseok's eye. "I know my students will exceed every expectation you've set, be it consciously or subliminally." He bowed to both Jooheon and Hoseok then, returning the act of respect. "But that is not what I am here to speak of."

Meekyong's pitiful singing was interrupted by her piercing scream, and all of a sudden the sound of severed ropes and spinning pullies cut through the air. The largest backdrop strung was falling from the ceiling and had nothing in its way to stop it.

"He's here," Whispered Minhyuk backstage. "The Phantom of the Opera."

With a heavy ***thud*** the wooden base of the piece hit the floor, creaking the floor of the stage precariously. Beneath the prop was Meekyong, unharmed due to the gratuitous amount of petticoats beneath her stage dress.

"I'm injured!" Cried Meekyong. "I won't be able to perform! Oh, you imbeciles! These things need to stop happening! Make it stop, you fools!"

Hoseok and Jooheon shared a look of confusion and fear. Hyungwon appeared a touch concerned, but otherwise unaffected. Meekyong was aided offstage by a few amateur ballerinas and singers, and she lamented the entire way to the dressing room - where she would reside for the rest of the day. To "recover", of course.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Shouted one of Meekyong's costars. 

A perverse drunkard by the name of Jinyoung stepped down from the rafters, waving his hands. "My bad, my bad! I wasn't at my post! No one was!" He caught sight of the letter in Hyungwon's clutch, and grinned. "I didn't cut it. It must have been a ghost, then." And he ambled away.

"A ghost?" Inquired Jooheon to no one in particular. 

Hyungwon replied by holding up the envelope. "He brings a message for you, managers."

Hoseok took the envelope and opened it carefully, then began to read aloud: 

"' _I welcome you to the Opera Populaire, gentlemen. I do hope you take good care of my theatre. Do instruct to leave Box 5 empty for my own viewing pleasure. To conclude my letter, a reminder that my salary of 20,000 franks is due. Signed, O.G.._ '"

"20,000 franks?!" Guffawed Jooheon. Hyungwon arched a brow. "Perhaps you can afford more? With the Viscount as your patron and whatnot."

"How are we going to worry about an opera ghost demanding a paycheck for breathing when we don't even have our lead for tonight's performance?! No one here can perform Meekyong's lines."

"Kihyun can." 

Jooheon and Hoseok stared at Hyungwon, questions asked in silence and answered the same way. "Fine, fine. Get him ready."

Hyungwon returned onstage and stalked over to the singer. "Ki," He said.

Kihyun turned around, still dressed in his dancer's garb. "You want me to sing, right?"

Hyungwon nodded. "Just as we've rehearsed."

Kihyun's eyes glimmered with confidence that matched his bright smile. "You got it."

A few minutes later, Kihyun stood onstage, front and center, and the music began. Jackson liked Kihyun much more than Meekyong, and expressed it through lighter motions and a happier expression as he led the orchestra into restarting the song.

The first notes of the piano were softer, cleaner than before. 

Then Kihyun sang. 

" _Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye~_ "

And it was beautiful.

He continued, voice blending perfectly with the instruments as they played. The harmonies that resounded through the theater bled into every listener's heart, warming them and carrying them with every lilt of Kihyun's voice. 

Hoseok looked to his brother as Kihyun sang, a voice of silk and honey as soft and crisp as fresh chocolate. "Joo, I think we have ourselves a show tonight."


	2. Angel of Music | The Phantom of the Opera

"Bravo!" Jooheon cheered, and quickly the rest of the performers joined him in applause. "Oh, Hoseok, our show is saved!"

"That it is!" He replied with a broad, gummy smile. "I wonder what Hyunwoo's going to think of the starlet here, hm?"

Jooheon snickered. "We don't have time to make assumptions, Seok. Come on, let's go figure out what the hell we're doing."

With that, the two stepped away, both of them eager to learn how to prepare to manage a show.

Evening arrived quickly. Time passes in haste on busy days, and today was no exception. After all, the final day of rehearsals was bound to be the most rigorous and chaotic. Opening night for any show was always abundant in expectations, sweat, and heavy makeup. Kihyun sat in the dressing room, his stage costume now perfectly fitted on his body. 

"You look amazing, Ki," Praised Minhyuk from the loveseat at the side of the room. "You're gonna do amazing, too. As long as you don't go showing off, of course."

Kihyun rolled his eyes with a huff. "That's exactly what I'm supposed to do. I plan on doing it, and I plan on doing it ten times better than Meekyong ever could."

Minhyuk tilted his head and wore a plausible expression. "Well, you know you have the whole ballet's and Jackson's support. That should be enough to keep you going, huh?"

Kihyun thought of the basement, the stained glass window and the candles. "I could have nothing but my angel and sing as long as my voice would allow me."

"You and that angel." Minhyuk shook his head and stood, making his way to the door to prepare himself for tonight's dance intermission. "One of these days you're gonna think you have wings of your own and fly too close to the sun."

"Min, you know I'd never lie about this sort of thing." Kihyun turned to face his friend, the long train of his performance coat trailing across the floor. "We aren't children anymore. We don't have time for fairy tales."

Minhyuk held up his hands in innocence. "I'm not calling you a child and I'm not claiming you're a liar." He turned to step into the red-carpeted hall. "I just want you to be careful."

Kihyun pursed his lips and gazed into the mirror once again. He almost didn't recognize his own reflection with the intricate coat and tunic on, aside from even the copious amounts of stage makeup. He tried to rake his gaze over every detail that seemed accentuated by the stage artists that had dolled him up; His lips were tinted a glossy cranberry color, his almond eyes sparkled with the liner and eyeshadow. His waist was slimmed in the baby blue silk and pearlescent lace, and the cloth frills that draped from his sleeves and coat flared out his silhouette. Even his trousers hugged his thighs nicely, and the curve of his nose was softened with proper creams and powders. The dark of his hair almost made his skin startlingly pale.

"Kihyun," Spoke a voice from the doorway. Hyungwon stood there, as model-esc and elegant as ever. "Are you done preening? You'll hardly have any time to warm up at this rate."

The brunet sneered from the mirror. "I don't look like me."

Hyungwon cocked his head and arched a brow. "Of course you do. You look like you getting ready to perform." He strode over to his prodigy and looked at him the same way he would when analyzing his posture while performing. "You can admire yourself later, Narcissus. Now, it's time to sing for your angel of music."

As Kihyun left with Hyungwon, he didn't catch the eyes watching him from the other side of the mirror.

Hyunwoo was greeted into the Opera Populaire by a full house. The red velvet seats of the theatre were filled with hundreds of pretentiously-dressed folk, likely the rich out for an evening getaway. He never meant to be judging or condescending, but he couldn't help but to turn his nose from the obvious acts of infidelity and wasteful behaviors. He shuffled away to his Box before he could say something he would come to regret.

"Hyunwoo!" Hoseok stopped him on his way up the staircase. "Oh, you're gonna love tonight's show. I can feel it in my bones."

Hyunwoo snickered to himself. "You feel it in your pecs because you're excited, Seok."

"Don't tease," Hoseok pouted. "Anyways, what do you think of this place? Beautiful, is it not?"

The Viscount smiled. "It is. I am very excited to see tonight's performance."

Hoseok grinned knowingly. "You'll be very pleased, I promise."

The lights onstage dimmed, and the billowing scarlet curtains were drawn closed. Jackson stood before his orchestra, instructed them to take a deep breath, and lifted his arms to begin conducting.

Kihyun stood behind the curtains. His heart raced and thrummed in his fingertips. The butterflies in his empty stomach must've been made of lightning, because he could feel the prickling wingbeats in his ribs and toes. He glanced to stage right and met eyes with Minhyuk, who shot him one of his trademark bright smiles, and provided an encouraging thumbs-up. 

He then looked to Hyungwon, whose pillowy lips curled into a reassuring grin. He nodded, and his unimpressed default expression returned. 

The music began, and the curtains flew open. Kihyun didn't know a spotlight could be so bright when he was the only one standing beneath it.

Still, he sang. " _Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye-_ "

The audience, who at first, turned their noses away from the new singer who wasn't Meekyong, quieted themselves. Just as anyone who heard Kihyun Yoo's voice, they were enraptured by the sound immediately. Women found themselves swooning, men found themselves envious, and everyone in between closed their eyes and let themselves be swept away by the sound. 

Hyunwoo sat in his box on the edge of his stiff chair. _'Can it be?'_ He thought to himself. _'Can it be Kihyun?'_ Jooheon grinned from beside him, deep dimples on display.

Kihyun basked in the beam of light, basking in its heat and its brightness. He basked beneath the gaze of hundreds in the audience, the majority on and backstage. Kihyun basked under the eyes of his angel.

Applause erupted from the audience after the mere first song, and by the time the curtains closed the staff of the Opera Populaire rejoiced over a brilliantly successful show. 

Kihyun dismissed himself after the cast bowed. He didn't even bother to change out of his stage costume, but rushed directly to the basement. He knelt down, resting his knees flush against the cold marbled floor, and lit a candle in front of the photo of his mother and the mural of angels.

" _Brava_ , _brava_ ," Sang a low, disembodied voice. " _Bravissimo._ "

Kihyun looked around with hope in his honeyed eyes, spoke softly. "Angel..."

The sound of footsteps skipping down the stairs began to echo throughout the room. It was Minhyuk, his expression gleeful and cheeks dusted pink. "So this is where you've been hiding! Gosh, you were perfect," He sat at his designated spot on the loveseat, now covered in flower petals. He sighed wistfully. "I only wish I knew your secret. Who is your great tutor?"

Kihyun smiled solemnly as he lit another candle. "Mother once spoke of an angel of music. When she died, she said he'd appear. Now, as I sing, I can sense him. I know he's here."

"Kihyun, you must be drunk on pride. The spotlight has gotten to you. You said you weren't telling stories, and things like this can't be true," He walked over and knelt beside his friend. "You're talking in riddles, Kihyun. It's not like you."

Kihyun snickered. "Says the dancer speaking in rhymes."

Minhyuk snorted. "Any time is a fine time to rhyme."

Shaking his head, the brunet stood and brought his blond friend to his feet with him. "Come on, Min. We deserve some rest."

"Rest?" Minhyuk sounded utterly incredulous. "We haven't celebrated tonight's success! The night is young, Kihyun, live a little!"

"I'm quite tired," Kihyun assured, much to Minhyuk's chagrin. "I'm going to go back up to my room. You are more than welcome to have a night with one of the many posh folk here, but please do me a favor and keep quiet while you do."

Minhyuk winked as the two trailed up the winding stairwell. "No promises."

It was almost as if the flowers left in Kihyun's room had doubled by the time he returned. When did anyone have the time to go find so many bouquets, and how had the flower stands not run out?

He sat down, admiring a single rose tied with black ribbon that rested on his nightstand when there was a knock on the door.

"Little Yoo let his mind wander," Spoke a voice, faintly familiar. "He thought to himself: 'Am I fonder of books, or of toy swords and the races of paper boats on the river?'"

Kihyun turned around, and was met with the sight of a man he hadn't seen in many, many years. "Hyunwoo!"

Hyunwoo broke into a grin, continuing his monologue. "'Or am I fonder chocolates, of riddles, of picnics in the attic?"

"Of singing folks songs of my home with mother..." Kihyun added.

"As we read to each other dark stories of the North." Hyunwoo stood in front of Kihyun now, half a head taller just as he always was. "Kihyun, it's so good to see you again."

Kihyun leapt forwards and enveloped the elder in a tight hug. "I haven't seen you since you left for schooling, I never thought I'd see you again!"

Hyunwoo held Kihyun close. "I could say the same to you. Shall we catch up with one another?"

Kihyun moved away. "I couldn't possibly, of all the things you must do tonight-"

"No no, I insist," Hyunwoo interrupted. His honeyed gaze threatened to melt Kihyun's resolve as simply as the wax on a candle. "I'll call a carriage. Be downstairs in two minutes."

And he was gone. 

Kihyun sat on his haunches, finally undressing from his performance attire into his nightclothes. He was grateful for the warmth and comfort of the big, soft sweater and pants. Even the moccasins on his feet could've been pillows. 

" _Insolent boy,_ " Suddenly thundered a voice, the angel's voice. Kihyun startled at the sound, frightened by the volume, the lowness, the anger. " _This slave of fashion. Basking in your glory._ "

Kihyun took a step back and looked around the room, eyes finding no sign of the source within the crowned ceiling and floral wallpaper.

" **Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor,** " The voice roared. " _Sharing in my triumph!_ "

Kihyun knitted his brows together. "Angel, I hear you. Speak, I listen. Stay by my side," It sounded like a plea. "Guide me. Forgive me. Please let me see you, angel."

The voice took a moment before answering. " _Flattering nightingale, you shall know me. See why in the shadow I hide. Look to your mirror, to your reflection. It is there I reside!_ "

Kihyun was ready to curl his lips to a sneer as if the voice were playing tricks, claiming that he was one with Kihyun. Inside him. The act was ignored when the songbird looked to the mirror and was met with a shadowy figure, cloaked in darkness, part of his face illuminated by a bone-white mask.

"Angel?" Kihyun whispered, almost as if he were afraid the apparition would fade were he too loud. 

" _I am your angel of music,_ " He said. " _Come to me, angel of music."_

"Kihyun!" It was Hyunwoo's voice followed by a raucous pounding on the door. "Kihyun, who's in there? Whose is that voice?!"

" _I am your angel of music,_ " Continued the voice. " _Come to me, angel of music_."

He held out hand, decorated by a sleek black leather glove.

Kihyun stepped towards the mirror timidly, reaching out his hands to touch the faux reflection's. He breathed slowly, deeply, and looked the figure in the eyes. 

"Take my hand," It whispered, voice unmistakably his angel's. "Let me show you the wonders of the night."

Swallowing the last of his hesitation, Kihyun pressed his fingertips to the mirror, only for them to fall through as mist surrounded him. 

Kihyun was stumbling down a stairwell through his mirror, his hand warm within the cloaked man's. A chorus of voices erupted in his head, a symphony, as he followed the figure down the cobweb-ridden tunnel decorated with candleholders of gold. 

"In sleep he sang to me," Kihyun began meekly. "In dreams he came. That voice which calls to me, sings my name."

The figure turned, presenting the unmasked side of his face, and smiled. His features were sharp and narrow, stoic. His eyes, deep, dark and narrow, sat above a sculpted nose and shapely pink lips. His cheekbones cast shadows on his hollowed cheeks in the candlelight, his jawline providing the same effect on the attractive column of his throat. Stray strands of slicked back black hair fell over his forehead, framed his stern brow.

"Do I dream again?" Kihyun asked, his voice no more than a whisper. "The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind."

The phantom grinned, a fiendish sight, with pointed white teeth and dimples as deceptive as belladonna. "Sing once again with me, a strange duet," The tunnel let out to an underground system of rivers, tunnels winding in every possible direction. The phantom held Kihyun's name tighter. "My power over you grows stronger yet. And though you turn from me to glance behind,"

Kihyun turned his head, fearful that they were being followed. His head was turned back to his companion, a gloved finger holding his chin and redirecting his focus. "The Phantom of the Opera is here, inside your mind."

The mask hid so much of his face, but what Kihyun could see was beautiful.

_It really is him._

_The Phantom of the Opera._

"Those who have seen your face draw back in fear," Kihyun stated, following the phantom's lead once again. A realization dawned upon him. " _I_ am the mask you wear."

The phantom smiled. "It's _me_ they hear."

_My spirit and my voice in one combined... The Phantom of Opera is there, inside our minds._

The masked man led Kihyun to a boat, and led him to sit down. The waters were a startling shade of teal, and mist cloaked the edges off the algae-ridden stone walls. Spiderwebs dripping in dew draped from the curved ceiling, almost providing an illusion of a night sky with stars.

"Sing for me," The phantom breathed, his voice rumbling and deep. "My angel."

Kihyun's mind swirled, as ever-changing as the waters the phantom rowed them through. He didn't catch himself singing, his voice quiet to start. He had no written song to follow, no words to announce. He had his voice, his gift.

"Sing!" The phantom cried. A gate appeared at the end of the tunnel, black and crossed and reeking of despair. " _Sing!_ "

" _Sing, my angel~_ " The phantom crooned, rowing the boat further and further down the underground river. Kihyun kept singing, voice growing louder, resounding from his chest out to the mossy stone walls of the tunnels, notes harmonizing in echoes. " _Sing for me!_ "

Kihyun closed his eyes, let his heart be heard in his voice. The phantom is his angel, he sings for his angel! 

_He sings for his Angel of Music!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably trash??? My bad?????? Anyways check out my new book called 'How to Romanticize Sewers 101"

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry. The perverse drunkard I mentioned here is JYP.


End file.
